The Hollow Shell ✔️

The Beauty of Pain

Sometimes, I could only cry
When the pain is too much to bear.
I tighten my fist and bite into it,
Hoping I could mute my screams.

There are other times,
I could only stare at the blank space on the walls,
Trying to read the emptiness
But I couldn't put it to context.

Countless of times, I sit on my table,
Take out a paper or two
And start writing.
Countless pens broke.

I've learned long ago,
That being alone is torture,
But it's my sweet torture.
And pain is sweet, in its own way.

I could be a masochist.
Maybe I'm just losing my mind.
I've decided that bearing with the pain,
Was much easier than shouldering it to someone else.

I stopped running to my parents' bed at night.
I stopped keeping stuff toys.
I even stopped my visits to Dr. Hilroy, the local therapist.
A shame. He was a good doctor.

Looking up to the night,
I could only feel my heart beating loud,
Felt a hand squeezing it, painfully,
And I smile.

For what is happiness?

Without the beauty of pain?